Futureproof: A Novel

By Stephen Albrecht

Trust the oceans will subside
Trust the migrants will adapt
Trust your ex-brain will serve you

In the 2050s, our predicted future is reality. The climate has changed. People flee the coasts and the heat zones to survive. Refugees reshape the world. And yet, through technology we adapt. Some of us even thrive. Our external brains, or ex-brains, show us how to solve our problems, help us predict and overcome. We trust, and we move forward. Joe Watson, a pioneering lawyer, and his wife Evie, a predictive psychologist, helped build this new world. When it turns against them, can they maintain trust in their future?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hybrid Global Publishing
• Release date: Jul 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781957013800

Book preview

Chapter 1

09 May 2053

Denver, Colorado, USA

Joe Watson and his associate sat across the conference table from their opponent. Rays of afternoon light splintered through the Denver skyline and dispersed in golden stripes across the room. Joe made eye contact when possible, but most of his attention was focused on his screen showing his argument outline and key data points. He was also running a biometric scan on opposing counsel, tracking her heart rate, any rise in body temperature, any hint of stress in her voice. He assumed she received the same about him. Keeping his cool was critical.

Negotiations between lawyers had always been a battle of wits. Many a dispute was won or lost based on a lawyer’s ability to bluff or sniff out the other side’s bluff. Technology expanded the playing field and armed lawyers with more tools to supplement their natural instincts.

Joe sat still, unflinching, forcing his opponent to break the silence. Joe, Felicity, we all know how this ends.

I told you, I go by Fe, rhymes with me, Fe interrupted, flashing an insincere smile.

Ms. Kim shifted in her chair and stared back. I’m sorry… Fe, she said trying to regain her rhythm. As I was saying, this deal continues. Your city needs my client’s technology, and no one else can build it. If you insist on a punitive level of penalties for delay, you kill your own project. Can we agree we’re moving forward?

Joe saw a flat line on his screen. No elevated stress. She was sincere.

The other side had been threatening to walk away, but that didn’t fit any of the scenarios Joe had run. He had a particular talent when it came to legal modelling. He led his firm’s ex-brain training program (the training referring to training the ex-brain, not the humans). Predictive technology ran the world. The more scenarios you could feed into your ex-brain, and the closer those scenarios got to reality, the more closely your ex-brain could predict the future. Better prediction equaled better deals. Simple.

The project had to go forward. Killing it was unacceptable to his client. Now Joe knew his opponent believed the same thing. Maybe her own ex-brain told her so, or maybe it was old-fashioned human reasoning. It didn’t matter. Now was the time to take action and force her hand.

I think you’re right, Ms. Kim. But there is a price to be paid when your client fails to meet every deadline in the contract. We’re building a new settlement zone, with businesses and residents sitting around waiting to move in. These are real people with lives on hold. The city of Denver has to compensate them, and your client has more than enough profit in the deal to pay that bill. This settlement window closes today. Let’s pick the number and get back to building.

He was close. He could feel it. Ms. Kim had a usual pattern, and after several of these meetings, his ex-brain was getting used to it, too. The bio monitors showed a small tension spike, which was typically followed by a concession. The ex-brain’s insights were informed by literally billions of human interactions, trillions of data points, the extra heartbeat, the drop of sweat, all leading to predictions about what people would do next.

She paused and went back to her screen, likely seeking further confirmation from her clients before making the offer. She stared and stared, and Joe could see her tension spiking further. Finally, she looked up with her hands in her lap. We can’t increase our offer, Joe. We’ve hit our limit. We’ve already put a lot of money on the table. Accept the offer, and we get back to work.

What? Where was the concession? The monitors missed something. Or it was a last-ditch effort to get off cheap. He looked back at his scenarios. The ex-brain modeling was tight. No way they would walk. And they could pay more. He had to call their bluff.

A message came through on Joe’s screen from Diane Chilvers, his client in Denver City Hall.

The City Council is watching. Mayor can’t take another setback. Need those buildings finished. No room for error here. Wrap this up.

Joe winced, revolted by the idea of letting them off easy. He was sure his ex-brain had this right. It was decision time. Human decision. Play it safe or trust the ex-brain and keep pushing. He looked over at Fe. By the look in her eye, he knew she felt it, too. They could do better. It was time to play her role again and shake things up. She sat up in her seat and placed her hands on the table with a slap to grab attention.

Hellooo? We’re getting tired here. Dinner plans, friends to see… still families in Denver with no tech hookups in their homes, children near death, longing for video feeds. She flashed another large fake smile. Your last offer was rejected. Don’t waste our time. Can we get a new number please? Or we’ll be in court again by tomorrow morning, Fe sneered. And we’ll own you.

Amazing that in a world of technology and efficiency, good old-fashioned wit and mettle still played a big role. Fe was irreverent, impatient, and whip-smart. She could disarm an opponent with a word and had the extra benefit of being very difficult for ex-brains to read. As smart as the external intelligence systems got, they still struggled with humor and sarcasm.

Ms. Kim looked up and smirked. Maybe she was stalling, maybe her superiors were wringing their hands back in an office somewhere. But the point landed. A better offer, now.

Joe’s screen blinked, another message from his client.

What are you doing? We can’t risk more delay!!!

Joe stared at the question bar on his dashboard. The screen detected his glance, and the ex-brain started predicting his question. It got this one right on the first try. ‘What settlement will Q4 Systems propose?’ flashed on his screen. Joe nodded, and a prediction came back instantly.

$170,567,589

Joe smiled. All his scenarios showed that anything over $160 million was a good deal. As long as his ex-brain was right, he was home.

Ms. Kim looked down again, nodded at her screen, and turned to Joe.

Joe, Fe, she exaggerated, we can let this drag out, but that’s not good for the city. Maybe a judge will see it differently?

Joe smiled back coolly. Oh, Ms. Kim. You just made my day. More than that, you just made my ex-brain ecstatic. We have a friendly judge in this case, and my ex-brain loves nothing more than helping me tear up witnesses at trial. You want to have some real fun? Let’s mix it up in court. You should tell your clients there to start preparing for their testimony now.

Joe and Fe sat calmly, smiling, daring her to walk away.

She looked down again at her screen. Joe didn’t need to check the bio monitor. He could see the stress on her face. This was over.

Finally, she broke the silence. We can offer you a $173 million rebate in exchange for immediate re-access to the project and full reinstatement of the bonus fund once the work is finished. That is our final offer.

Joe smiled again. Home run. He looked over at Fe, who was shaking her head and motioning for him to slide over. She pulled out a pen and started writing quickly on a pad of paper. No whisper was quiet enough when an opposing ex-brain was nearby.

• This is amazing, but I want to mess with her for a bit longer. Where shall we go for victory drinks?

Joe took the pen and wrote back:

• I don’t know, it depends on who’s paying. Can I wrap this up now?

She snatched the pen again:

• No, this is fun. Look at her stress level.

She gestured at her monitor showing a bar steadily rising.

You’re ridiculous, Joe whispered as he slid back to face his anxious opponent.

Okay, Ms. Kim. Let’s write this up and get the deal done.

After the handshakes and pleasantries, Joe and Fe walked out of the conference room debating whom to speak to first, their client or Winston, the senior partner on the case. Both would already know the outcome from their data feeds. Winston had the benefit of being more fun, and right down the hallway.

Fulham & Mayson was like most modern law firms with strict rules limiting access to the data analytic centers that ran the place and biometric security checks restricting who could access them. Joe and Fe both placed their palms on the frosted-glass doors and heard the familiar ping of access approval as the doors slid open.

As they walked down the hallway and approached Winston’s office, they heard him clapping in applause, anticipating their arrival.

Well done, you two! Winston projected his booming voice as they turned the corner into the office. He sat across a small table from another partner but did not hesitate to disrupt their conversation to congratulate his team. Yes! $173 million! I knew you could crack $150. We have some very happy clients downtown.

That’s $23 million extra they can spend on housing the masses! Fe interjected with a hint of sarcasm, which earned a quick furrowing of Winston’s brow before his smile bounced back.

That’s $23 million for our success fees, Joe corrected.

That’s more like it! Winston agreed. "You guys did a fantastic job on this case. I know how hard you worked on the scenarios, the hours and hours with the ex-brain mapping out the potential outcomes. But the beauty was how you pinned them down and drove straight to a number, and a really good one." You could almost see the dollar signs in his eyes.

This one was pretty easy, boss, Joe replied trying to summon some humility. All the scenarios pointed basically in the same direction, and I’m sure their ex-brain showed them the same thing. There weren’t any other options that made sense.

Yeah, but how many times have we seen these things go sideways because the other side gets some crazy plan in their heads, and we spend months running in circles? You guys kept control of this and moved it right where it needed to go. You knew just when to force their hand. That’s a skill you can’t always teach, Winston said looking back across the table at his colleague for approval. Gretchen O’Donnell, a young partner from the corporate law group, smiled and nodded along. The construction is back online, and new migrants to Denver can continue getting places to live. Fantastic work, Winston concluded.

Joe felt like a dog having his belly rubbed. In the most basic part of his brain, it was as if he was sitting up straight with his tongue wagging as Winston offered him treats. His face felt warm.

Thank you, Winston. If there’s one thing we try to do, it’s to keep control of the case. And making sure Denver can keep housing the flood refugees is a great outcome, too.

Fe suppressed her gag reflex. She was never one to let a tender moment trump an opportunity for a joke, or a drink, or both.

Okay, enough of the lovefest. I’m very excited for you both, and all those homeless people fleeing LA for the Denver elevation. And I’m sure this will seal the deal when Joe is up for partner later this year, right, Winston?

He’s one of the best! Winston answered quickly.

Now how about this person? Fe said, gesturing at herself. When do I get my victory drink?

All right, Fe, I’m in. Let’s go have a quick video with our clients downtown and then we can go celebrate. Winston, you in? Joe asked.

No, Gretchen and I need to finish something, and I have a few other teams to check on. They don’t all run themselves quite as well as you two, he replied with regret. But let’s set up a victory lunch soon. Just let me know when.

Winston stood and walked them toward the door, putting his arms around their shoulders and squeezing them. Great work, guys. You make my job easy.

Just add it to our bonuses, Fe shot back without missing a beat.

Joe smiled, admiring Fe’s worldview. Do good, get money. For every minute Joe spent analyzing potential outcomes, and controlling for future possibilities, Fe would spend the same time enjoying her moment in the now.

The pair walked down the hall and turned into an office as Winston turned back to face Gretchen. She was frowning at him with an eyebrow raised in concern.

**********

Joe and Fe stepped into an empty office set up for video links. The shades were drawn to protect a large screen from the sun’s glare. So, you think this win will finally put you over the line to make partner? Fe asked, pushing his buttons.

He shrugged. Like you don’t, Fe?

Oh, sure, I’ll take a boatload of cash and a guaranteed job for life. But I could just as easily tell them all to go to hell. If you miss the next partnership round, I think you might just explode like one of those carbon storage tanks that keep overheating out in the desert.

Are you comparing me to an environmental disaster? Plus, you already tell us to go to hell regularly. I think you need to aim a little higher, Joe said with a laugh. But yes, winning these cases has to get it done. Otherwise, I’ll begin to wonder if partnership still exists. Joe approached the empty wall and placed his palm against the surface to activate the screen.

As the wall flickered to life Fe called out, Ex-brain, what do you think? Is Joe gonna make partner this year? Joe shot her a look, but also paused for the answer.

Hello, Fe. Hello, Joe, the ex-brain said through the room’s speakers. I do not see a partnership vote in the calendar at this time, it continued very matter-of-factly.

Hmmm. Maybe you’re right, Joe. Partnership doesn’t exist anymore! Fe said, forcing her eyes wide open in mocking surprise.

Oh, stop it. They do the partnership vote every fall. I’m sure it’s just not on the schedule yet. Now can we please get on with our job? he said, sounding exasperated. Ex-brain, please ignore Fe. And nice work today.

Thank you, Joe. This settlement exceeded our original projections. It is a very good outcome for our clients. I am very pleased with our progress, but I do have a suggestion.

What is it? Joe asked.

Q4 Systems has displayed patterns of behavior that lead me to believe there may be further errors in their work. I believe we should perform continuing analysis to determine if there are more claims to be raised. Joe, I suggest that you and I dedicate some more time to this project.

There you go again, ex-brain. Why do you always choose Joe? What am I, chopped liver? You don’t like the way I work, do you? Fe asked, hiding a smile.

Of course, I am happy to work with you, Fe. I can schedule some time in your calendar.

Eh, we’ll see. Pouring over computer code and looking for errors sounds more like a job for you and Joe, now that I think about it.

Joe stepped in again as concern crept across his face. It’s a good idea, ex-brain. I don’t like these loose ends. Maybe you and I can start looking into this tonight.

Are you kidding? Fe exclaimed. Case closed. We won. Victory drinks. Jesus, Joe, give it a rest. Let the ex-brain think on it over the weekend.

Joe looked back at her glaring eyes. He’d seen this look before and knew he was no match for her. Okay, okay. Ex-brain, thank you for suggesting it. One of us will pick it up with you next week, he conceded. I think it might be good for Fe to dig into some detailed computer code with you. Sounds like exactly what she needs. He smiled back at her.

Forget I said anything, ex-brain. Joe’s your favorite. We all know that. You two have fun.

Joe shook his head, smirking. Okay, ex-brain. Next week. Now, let’s contact Denver Migration Settlement; Ms. Chilvers’ office. Very quickly, the wall blinked and a life-sized image of a middle-aged woman standing at a desk appeared, almost as if they were in the same room. Even the carpets seemed to blend as their colors merged into one.

You did it! the woman exclaimed with a smile.

Joe beamed, soaking in his triumph. Sorry if we made you nervous, Diane. But sometimes we just need to trust the ex-brain. It was right again.

**********

Back in Winston’s office, the door was closed. He and Gretchen sat quietly, unable to get back to their work. Winston, you know the firm isn’t making new partners, she said in a quiet scold. When are you going to tell him?

Winston stood, agitated, and walked back into the center of the room. He had to squint as the dark orange sun coming in the window glistened off a shelf full of deal toys, small glass baubles, each one representing a big transaction in a career of successful corporate deal making. I know what the ex-brain has said, and I know what the partnership has decided. But you know how sensitive these things are. Like any big deal, you don’t say a word until it’s done. Plus, these are good kids. Great lawyers.

Gretchen shook her head. I know it’s not public yet, and I know they are good lawyers. But you can’t lead them on. The firm has decided. The project is going forward, and we have to own it.

Winston took a deep breath as he stared solemnly out the window. His jaw clenched. I’m the managing partner of the goddamn firm. Believe me, Gretchen, I own it.

Ex-Brain Q&A Entry: What is Ex-Brain Q&A?

Ex-Brain Q&A is an interactive information service aspiring for truth. Humans post questions and suggest answers to other people’s questions. A dedicated ex-brain evaluates all responses along with all other publicly available information to produce and publish the most accurate and succinct answer. Answers are updated periodically as new information becomes available.

The Ex-Brain Q&A service is operated by the Ex-Brain Q&A Foundation for the promotion of clarity and truth throughout the human world.

Posted 10 May 2053, response v.163

© Ex-Brain Q&A Foundation

Chapter 2

The kitchen in the Watson house was a bright and happy place. Joe and Evie hung a small poster above the oven that read MY KITCHEN IS FOR DANCING, and it was. Music was almost always piped in by the home ex-brain to fit the mood, and it was usually something upbeat.

On this morning, Joe stood at the stove making his famous Saturday-morning scrambled eggs to go with a sourdough he’d picked up at the bakery down the street. Genuine bakery bread tasted better than what their home food generator produced. Evie was in her pajamas reading news at the kitchen table while the twins, Anderson and Grace, entertained their little sister, Hope, in the family room.

A morning jazz concert was playing in the room. The tempo picked up and a drum solo kicked in. Evie squinted her eyes as the percussion banged a bit too loud for her early-morning ears.

Music, lower the drums and bass, please? Quickly, the drum portion of the music dimmed, and the melody became the dominant sound. Thank you. She smiled softly, brushing a few curly strands of dark hair back over her ear, her eyes never leaving her screen with the Saturday-morning updates. Joe frowned a bit, but let it go. He thought jazz was nothing without bass and drums, but his wife’s comfort was more important at the moment.

Babe, let’s get outside today, maybe hike around Brainard Lake? Joe said as he scraped scrambled eggs out of the pan.

Yeah, okay. I’m on call today, but it’s the low season so it should be fine, Evie replied.

Their daughter Hope wandered in the kitchen, lured by the smell of breakfast. Her nightgown, a hand-me-down from her older sister, slid across the floor, hiding her little feet underneath. Mom, what’s the low season? she asked.

Evie looked at her and smiled brightly. Well, sweetheart, you know how my job is to help people who are new to Denver who are having problems adjusting? Hope nodded as she shifted up on her tiptoes to peer at the toast and eggs on the countertop. Her nightgown still didn’t clear the floor. So, it turns out that in the spring and summer when the weather is nicer and people can get outside, they feel better and have fewer problems.

Okay, Hope said, satisfied.

Joe stared at his wife and daughter, how similar they looked in the morning with sleepy eyes and uncombed curly black hair. He also thought of how proud he was of Evie. At any given time, there were over a million people in Denver at risk for mental health crises. Similar to the tools Joe used to monitor his legal opposition, Evie was a pioneer in bio monitoring tools for people with acute mental health conditions. Some had chronic cases of depression or bipolar disorders, but most were upward immigrants, as the new arrivals in Denver were sometimes called. They often went through a monitoring period as they mourned the loss of their homes and processed the changes in their lives. Her program brought Denver’s suicides down from epidemic levels of over ten thousand per year to just a handful. It was important work that didn’t recognize weekends.

Joe, on the other hand, worked hard during the week and valued outdoor weekend time with his family above all else. Since his early days at the University of Colorado, just down the road in Boulder, through all of his time building his family and his career, the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains was his escape and had become a large part of his identity. Denver had more than tripled in population from the time Joe first arrived, and he had grown up with it. His legal work had largely focused on helping the city expand. But the mountains surrounding the city always seemed to keep things in perspective for Joe. As large as the cityscape grew, and as high as the population soared, they were all still relatively small compared to the mountains. He loved them.

Joe called for the other kids to come join them for breakfast as Evie tore herself away from the news to set the table. Slowly, two older children emerged into the kitchen and took their places on the bench running along one side of a long kitchen table.

Evie set a plate in front of each child, and Joe trailed behind scooping a portion of eggs onto each. Joe pulled the last pieces of toast from the toaster and landed one on each plate. As Evie poured juice into glasses she asked, Who wants to follow Daddy on a hiking adventure today?

Silence.

Joe wouldn’t let some less-than-enthusiastic children spoil his good mood, or his ambition for the great outdoors. He had beaten one of the largest tech suppliers in the world to save a deal. Children were… child’s play.

All right, who wants to have the best Saturday of their life, full of adventure and fresh air, nature, and total awesomeness? he called out with paternal enthusiasm. The smallest Watson, Hope, burst out with an excited, Me! Joe gave her a big smile and grinned even wider on the inside thinking about how awesome five-year-olds were. If only they stayed that way.

That settles it. We’re all in! Joe proclaimed.

Why are you in such a good mood, Dad? Anderson asked, scrunching up his forehead with suspicion.

Because I’m awesome. And my job is awesome. And my family is awesome. And this city continues to get more and more awesome, Joe replied, summing up all of his thoughts on the matter.

The city is getting crowded, but I agree with everything else, Evie added. Evie was more skeptical than Joe on the topic of Denver. She loved it and loved the proximity to nature. But while Joe got to fulfill his professional ambition by building up the city, the growth had the opposite effect on Evie. More people usually meant more migrants arriving with more mental trauma. It kept her busy, but also broke her heart.

I’ll go hiking, Dad. Not that I have a choice, grumbled Grace. She too, had the preteen attitude kicking in, but was a bit more pragmatic about it.

Great, everyone eat up, and let’s get going. Joe scooped the last couple bites of eggs into his mouth and slid off his bench seat. Morning sun continued to stream in from the glass wall at the end of the kitchen, and Joe danced his way across the floor to put his plate in the washing drawer, jazz with a distinct lack of bass and percussion playing in the background.

The Watson family knew the drill when it came to Dad’s hikes. Each had a one-piece hiking outfit with a backpack, including a built-in water dispenser. Activewear had gotten more streamlined and sleek over the years, and the Watson gear was top of the line, all the way down to the wet/dry boots and micro-capillary cooling channels that could protect them up to 115 degrees. Anderson joked that they looked more like a bobsled team than a hiking family, but they all enjoyed how comfortable and ruggedly capable the gear made them feel when moving through the mountain passes.

After packing up their gear and a picnic lunch, they all filed into the small garage on the side of their house. Joe opened the car door while doing a mental inventory of their equipment, his third time running through it to make sure nothing was missed. He nodded to himself as he finished his checklist and slid into the driver’s seat. Owning a car at all was a luxury, but Joe saw it as essential family equipment. He hated the plain, boring transports that everyone else rented to move them around the city. His car was sleek, resembling a long glass bubble with wheels hidden underneath. As the family entered and slid the doors closed behind them, the bottom half of the bubble clouded over to give them privacy, but the top remained clear for the view.

Hope, I think it’s your turn. What color today? Joe asked.

Um, orange! she called out. The car heard the command and instantly the exterior surface swirled first into a light grey and then into a dark orange. A black pinstripe slid down the side to complete the design.

Joe entered the destination manually into the console, and the glass panel in the front of the car flashed into a cockpit image with all the car’s controls. Because it was all digital, there were many options for the style of the console. Joe had set it for a retro look with gleaming chrome and dials. He reached for a large button labeled manual. As he pressed it, a steering wheel emerged from the console, and pedals slid out under his feet.

Really? Manual driving again? Evie asked with annoyance. It’s less safe, and every minute running on manual is more we have to pay in insurance.

It’s also more fun to drive than to be driven, he shot back. Plus, I never agree with the ex-brain’s route.

Yes, getting there quickly and avoiding traffic is such a drag… she said, flashing him a sly smile, but leaving it there.

Joe eased the car out of the garage and smoothly rolled into the main road that ran in front of the Watsons’ housing complex. The traffic flowed by smoothly, mostly riding in automated mode so that the cars could run very close together, synchronized with each other. As Joe entered traffic, the cars parted to leave the human driver some extra space.

Interactive highways across Denver were a significant enhancement that allowed the city to cope with its huge influx of residents. Gleaming elevated highways crisscrossed the city, allowing people to skip over local gridlock and quickly get across town. With the majority of cars driven by ex-brains, there was a smooth efficiency in the flow of traffic. Drivers like Joe who insisted on piloting their own cars were given space in the right lanes, sometimes slowing each other down with erratic brake lights, but providing the drivers with a bit of a thrill as well.

Joe was keeping up with the automated lanes on this Saturday morning, and he could see the mountain ranges slowly replacing the city skyline as he sped westward. Drones flew even faster above them, filled with passengers willing to pay more to get where they were going a bit quicker.

Evie looked out the car’s glass bubble. The world moves so fast, she observed as a few dozen drones zoomed above them in a cluster.

That’s why we go to the mountains. They’re not going anywhere, Joe replied.

Anderson had seen the same group of drones as he gazed out the window. Why do they fly in groups like that? he asked.

They call them flocks, Joe answered. "A long time ago,